


Let Your Heart Be Light

by gloria_andrews



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bad Weather, Fluff, Homesickness, M/M, Travel Mishaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:09:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloria_andrews/pseuds/gloria_andrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his flight is canceled due to terrible weather, Harry gets stuck in a little motel the day before Christmas Eve.  Louis happens to be the only other guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Your Heart Be Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PermanentVacationMalum (SomeOverratedFics)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeOverratedFics/gifts).



> Title from "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"

Harry Styles was feeling pretty sorry for himself by the time he lurched through the doors of the Quality Inn in Mosinee, Wisconsin.  He’d almost made it the full mile there from the airport without succumbing to self-pity, struggling along in the heavy, stinging snow and telling himself that, yeah, this might suck right now, but it would be over soon, and someday it would make a fairly good story.  But then his sock had fallen down inside his boot just as he stepped into a particularly deep drift of dirty, wet snow.  After that, the dam was broken.  

He’d trudged up the seemingly endless drive to the motel with his by-then essentially non-functioning roller suitcase dragging on the ground behind him and banging into his leg every other step, cursing the universe for treating him this way.   

 _Stupid fucking snow.  Stupid fucking sock.  Stupid fucking airport._    

His anger at the situation had settled into a deep mope by the time he was crossing the car park, and he got a jolt of perverse enjoyment from the way that the “MERRY XMAS, STAY WARM” on the shitty motel’s shitty marquee seemed to have been specifically designed to add insult to injury.  Now that Harry was allowing himself feel bad, he really wanted to go all the way with it.   

But then the middle-aged desk clerk was genuinely kind, when Harry approached to finally check in.   

“Oh, no,” she said, wincing in sympathy as she took in Harry’s appearance. He looked almost encrusted in snow, clumps of it had glommed onto his hat and scarf and all over the wool of his peacoat. “Did you just walk all the way over from the airport?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah,” he sighed out, fumbling around for his wallet.  

 _God._  Of course he wasn’t even being allowed to really wallow.  Now he just felt guilty, because even though he hadn’t been impolite, he’d wanted to be.  

 _Quit being so fucking pathetic._ He told himself, as the clerk entered some information into a computer.  It wasn’t Christmas Eve until the next day, but this woman was stuck away from her family for the time being, just like he was.  He glanced at her named tag.   _Karen’s probably not 4,000 miles away from them, though, is she?_

“I hate to tell you this…” Karen said tentatively, her face scrunching up in apology.  

Harry’s heart fell to his feet and his brow creased in distress. If this motherfucking place didn’t have a room for him, then he might as well just dive right into a bottomless pool of self-pity all over again, because this actually had to be the most trying day of his life.  Two fucking flight delays, an inevitable flight cancellation, no taxis at the dinky little airport, a mile trek through a fucking blizzard, and now this?  

_How can this place be full? There’s like one car parked out there!  I fucking hate this state. I hate the weather.  I hate the “nice” people. I hate it._

Normally, Harry didn’t mind Wisconsin.  Actually, that was a lie.  Normally, he loved it.  He’d come to Central Wisconsin from England, aiming to get his master’s degree in music education. He loved his program and the simple life he lived in his small university town.  He hoped to stay on there after he graduated that spring.   Right now, though, Wisconsin felt like hell on Earth.  Harry wanted to go home to his mother and sister in England. He wanted to have a lovely Christmas with his family, and it wasn't going to happen. If this lady was going to tell him there were no rooms available in this god forsaken motel he was going to cry, and also beg her to let him sleep on the ugly couch he could see in what must have been the continental breakfast area.  The next closest hotel was prohibitively far away for foot travel, and he was most certainly not walking back to the airport in this weather.  He wasn’t walking anywhere.

“I’m very sorry Mr. Styles, but the cable is out,” Karen finally finished.  As she slid a key to Harry across the counter.  

Harry let out an involuntary chuckle, slumping a little in relief.

“That’s all right,” he said, as his hand closed around the key. The place was so small and old that it was an actual key, not a keycard.  

“You’re in room 107,” Karen said, pointing down the hallway to the left.  She gestured toward the room with the couch. “We don’t have much of a kitchen, but I put out a kringle and some cocoa and christmas cookies in the lounge, since no one is delivering in this weather…”

Harry nodded, guilt tugging at him again.  Karen was still looking mildly contrite, like she knew Harry had been through an ordeal getting there, so of course he was already regretting the flash of anti-Wisconsin sentiment that had run through him.  

“Thank you,” he murmured, turning to go.  He was grateful that his suitcase had started rolling again properly, now that there wasn’t six inches of sloppy snow to tug it through.

“There’s a DVD player in there too,” Karen called after him, “In the lounge…”

Harry raised a hand in acknowledgment before continuing toward his room.  He pulled out his phone to check the time.  It was only 8:00pm, but he was dead on his feet, weaving a little as he made his way down the hall.  He doubted he’d get through more than one of the Friends episodes on his hard drive before he fell asleep.  

“Whoa, easy there, mate!”  

Harry came to an abrupt halt as a pair of small, strong hands closed over his shoulders to steady him.  He blinked down at the man before him, flushing in embarrassment over having nearly run him over.    

“Did you make your way over here from the airport, too?” the man asked, his pretty blue eyes full of knowing amusement as he took Harry in.  

Harry nodded, still blinking without speaking.  It wasn’t just the man’s eyes that were pretty, his face was too.  Very pretty. He had small, sharply handsome features, and his body looked so slight and cuddly under the loose sweatpants he was wearing.  And he was English!  Northern, if Harry hadn’t completely lost his ear for regional accents from a few years in the States, and something about that made Harry’s chest tighten, his homesickness growing just a bit worse.  

“Absolute nightmare,” the man said, “I felt like Brave Irene by the time I got here.”

“Brave Irene?” Harry asked, finally moved to speak because of his confusion, “What’s that?”

“Oh!  You are from England, too?” the small man’s face lit up, his curving brows arching further in delight as he ignored Harry’s question. “What are the odds?”

“They must be pretty long,” Harry said, cringing a little internally after the words came out. _The must be pretty long? Why?_

“I’m Louis Tomlinson,” the man said, extending one of his small, strong hands for a shake, “I’m from Doncaster.”

“Harry.  Styles.  Chesire -- Holmes Chapel.” Harry yanked off his sodden mitten rather dramatically and felt a thrill go through him when their palms slid together. The new warmth in his heart made the extra tug of homesickness melt away.    

Louis grinned up at him, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t tend to expect to run into people from home ‘round here, but I definitely had you pegged as a local, with that on your head.”  

Harry laughed, reaching up to touch the warm Green Bay Packers hat that he’d shoved on over his curls.  It was damp, just like his mittens, the snow clumps clinging to it having melted since he’d come inside.  One of the students in the class he TA’d for his first semester in Wisconsin had given it to him after he’d made an offhand remark about liking Aaron Rodgers.  He’d mostly been referring to Aaron’s triceps and eyes at that point, but he’d come to appreciate American Football as a sport since then.

“It’s not so bad once you understand the rules, really,” he said with a shrug, feeling alarming endeared by the way Louis scrunched up his face in distaste and shook his head in response.   

“It’s when I do my food shopping, to be honest,” Louis said. Harry gave an easy chuckle.  Grocery stores were almost guaranteed to be empty during a game.      

They stood together in silence for a second or two, until Harry glanced down at his feet and realized he was creating a bit of a puddle on the carpet in the middle of the corridor.  Louis seemed to notice it at the exact same time.  

“I should --” he said, clearly his throat a little awkwardly as he skirted around Harry and took a step toward the lobby. “I should probably let you get to your room, sorry.”

“Right,” Harry said, trying to shake off his strange desire to follow Louis wherever he might be going, “nice to meet you?”

“You too,” Louis said gently, looking back over his shoulder as he continued down the corridor with his hands in the pockets of his joggers.  “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Merry Christmas,” Harry murmured back.  

He felt oddly let down as he continued to his room and couldn’t keep from replaying all the ways he might have embarrassed himself during that little exchange. Had he held on too long during the handshake?  Smiled too eagerly?  Definitely he’d smiled too eagerly.  

“Must be pretty long…?” he mocked himself as he unlocked the door, rolling his eyes at his elderly person’s response to Louis’s question about the odds of encountering another English person in Central Wisconsin. “You talk such shit.”

His room was much like the rest of the hotel -- old, but clean and very floral.  A cheap looking rose patterned comforter covered the double bed and there were several prints of pansies in woven baskets hanging in gilt frames on the wall.  Harry chuckled fondly at the fake plastic flowers on the nightstand and slipped out of his coat before flopping back onto the bed on a diagonal, his feet hanging off the end.

It wasn’t until he finally forced himself to sit up, yanking off his boots and peeling off his frigid socks, that he realized beautiful Louis from the hall had never explained what what he’d meant about Brave Irene.  

_Is that some kind of famous winter hero I just happened to miss?_

He turned his phone over again and again in his hand, mulling over whether he should just look it up on the internet.  He didn’t really want to.  What he wanted was to use it as an excuse to talk to beautiful Louis from the hallway again.   

 _What are you going to do, just knock on every door until you find him?_    

Harry flopped back onto the bed again and let out a despondent sigh.  He always got so far ahead of himself, so quickly, when he met someone he was attracted to. He was already extending his imagined telling of the story of this wretched day to include how it turned out alright after all, since he met Louis.  The love of his life.    

 _You don’t even know if he’s into men, you weirdo._  Harry thought, tugging at his bottom lip, but the thoughts continued anyway.   _He might be in the lounge...  That’s the way he was headed...  Karen said there was kringle, it’s not as though I haven’t got a plausible excuse…  it’s not as though I’m not actually hungry, either.  And it’s Christmas.  Companionship is nice on Christmas..._   

He hefted himself up off the bed, suddenly too full of nervous energy to remain still, and went to take a look in the mirror.  He immediately made a sound of distress -- he’d removed his Green Bay hat when he’d come into the room, and his hair was a mess of squashed curls that somehow seem to stick out every which way despite being squashed.  

 _Oh for fucks sake he’s probably not even out there. He doesn't care about your stupid hair._    

Harry felt a little ridiculous about it, but the edge of homesickness that had dulled a bit while he was chatting with Louis had come creeping back in now that he was alone, and as he stared at himself in mirror he realized that simple companionship really was what he was looking for at the moment.  Just having someone to sit with would be nice.  So, he tugged his suitcase open and put on some cosy wool socks, fluffed his hair up one last time, and slipped back out into the corridor with his key in hand and a little nervous anticipation in his heart.   

Karen was on the phone when he reached the lobby, so he raised a silent hand in greeting as he shuffled into the lounge.  

Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

Beautiful Louis from out in the hall was curled up on one end of the hideous old couch, clutching a styrofoam cup containing some kind of steaming liquid and petting at the kringle crumbs on his pullover sweatshirt with the other.  Harry found it all very endearing.  So endearing that he couldn’t quite look, fearing that Louis would read it off his big dorky face, so he crossed the room to the little snack station very quickly, keeping his head down as he went.  

“The cups for the hot chocolate are under the counter,” Louis piped up from the couch.  He indicated the correct cabinet by gesturing with a DVD player remote control.

“Thanks,” Harry managed.

Christ, he really did think Louis was attractive.  So much so that his hand was trembling a little as he pulled out the sleeve of cups, and he promptly dropped most of them on the floor.  

The soft, happy way Louis giggled at his mishap made Harry flush slightly, but it also made some of his nerves melt away.  Louis was maybe glad to have someone else around too, he realized.    

“Oopsie,” He said, smiling over at him.  

“I nearly did the same thing.” Louis’s eyes were crinkled at the corners. He motioned toward the boxy television that had been placed on a rickety looking card table against the wall.  “Want to watch a film with me?”

Harry looked up in surprise, and it was Louis’s turn to flush and cough quickly into his fist.  “I mean, I just thought because, um, Just.  We’re stuck here -- ”

“Which one?” Harry asked, his heart fluttering when he finally found his voice.

“Well, all they’ve got is a bunch of classic old ones,” Louis said, a smile spreading on his face.  He shifted on the small plaid couch so he was sitting more fully upright, probably to make room for Harry.  “I thought maybe _Meet Me In St. Louis_ since it has been a bit of a Christmas element to it.  None of the others do.  I'm not really feeling watching Rear Window at the moment.”

“I think it’s pronounced St. Lewis,” Harry said, as he came over to sit down.  He set his kringle and napkin in his lap rather primly, and blew gently on his hot cocoa before taking a sip.

“Right,” Louis chuckled, “their mistake.”

Harry laughed.  “So that’s how you spell it, then, your name? L-O-U-I-S?”

“Yep.”

“I like it.”

“Thank you,” Louis said, “my parents gave it to me.”

Harry laughed again and Louis looked pleased, his cheeks pink.  

“Who’s Brave Irene?” Harry asked rather abruptly.  

Louis’s brow quirked.  

“Earlier, in the hall… You said you felt like Brave Irene, walking over here…”

“Oh right!  I did!” Louis angled his body toward Harry more. “Um, _Brave Irene_ is a children’s book my mum read to me when I was a kid.”

Harry nodded.

“It’s about this little girl, Irene, whose mother is a seamstress, and she’s made this lovely dress for a duchess that needs to be delivered that night because the duchess is going to wear it to a big party.  But her mother is very ill, and there is a blizzard, and she shouldn’t be going out in it.  So Irene goes instead.  And it’s really terrible for her because the beautifully wrapped dress gets torn out of the box by the wind.” Louis paused to laugh there.  “That sort of happened to me, on the way over here.  I dropped my stupid suitcase and about half my clothes came spilling out and I thought I was going to lose it!  I was so mad I was shouting at the weather for sucking so very much.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. He was smiling in commiseration and thinking back to his own near meltdown.  

Louis grimaced. “It’s over now, thank God.”

“Irene makes it to the party, though?”

“Oh right, yes,” Louis said, after a quick sip of hot chocolate, “just when she is at her lowest point, she finds the dress plastered to the side of a tree and sees that the duchess’s mansion is just down the hill.” Louis grinned. “So, just like me seeing that crappy Quality Inn sign at the top of the hill!  Hallelujah!  I was delivered!”    

“I almost broke down because of a little snow getting down around my ankles in my boots, so you are much more _Brave Irene_ than I am.”

“Harry, don’t sell yourself short.  We are both incredibly tough individuals,” Louis said, ripping a piece off Harry’s section of kringle and smirking at his squawk of protest. “It’s no wonder we’re the only two who made it here.”

“Do you really think we’re the only ones here?” Harry asked, looking around the lounge as though that was anyway to figure if they were. 

“Yeah, the lady at the front desk said it was just me, when I got here.  I think you’re the only one to arrive since.”

Sitting with Louis and talking to him was so nice, like they’d already known each other years and years. It felt exactly right suddenly, to be there with him.  As if they were trapped in a cozy little place, tucked away from the rest of the world.  Harry glanced out the window as they sat in companionable silence for a few moments.  The snow didn’t even seem that bad now, just beautiful really.  Soft and quiet, making the lights that illuminated the parking lot glow almost blue green, like they were in an inground pool.  

When he turned back to Louis, Louis’s eyes were already on him, soft and and warm and twinkling in the lights from the shoddy fake Christmas Tree in the corner.

Harry felt heat creep up the back of his neck, his pulse leaping.  He squirmed, embarrassed by the intensity of his response to Louis’s attention.  

“Should we --” he blurted. “Should we watch the film then?”

“Oh,” Louis murmured,  “yes, let’s.”

An hour and half into the movie and they were cuddled up next to each other on the couch, Louis tucked right into Harry’s side as they listened to Judy Garland singing “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” to her little sister on screen.

 

Here we are as in olden days,

Happy golden days of yore.

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Gather near to us once more.

 

Harry felt himself getting choked up along with the characters, and the homesickness from earlier snaked back around his heart.  So bittersweet. He heard Louis sniffle slightly, and he pulled him in even closer.  

“Maybe it was a silly choice, after all,” Louis said, laughing wetly.

Harry huffed out a laugh of his own, thumbing a tear out of his eye.  “Nah,” he whispered, deciding to go for earnest, no matter how cheesy it might be. “Just makes me more glad you’re here.  A little bit of home on Christmas.”      

Louis turned to look at him, his blue eyes bright, and it occurred to Harry how close they were actually sitting for only having just met.  He’d only have to lower his face a few inches to drop a kiss onto Louis’s mouth.  

“What time is it?” Louis asked in a whisper.  The movie was still playing in the background, but Harry wasn’t paying attention.  Louis had him transfixed.  

“Almost ten o’clock.”

“It’s my birthday.  At midnight.”  Louis kept his voice low as he said it, like he was letting Harry in on a secret, and it made something soft and warm bloom in Harry’s belly.  

“Oh a Christmas Eve baby?” Harry said, pleased. “Well, Happy Birthday, Louis.”

Louis nodded, a bit of a wistful look on his face, and Harry’s heart clenched.  

“I’m sorry you can’t be with your family,” he said, squeezing Louis’s tighter. 

“It’s alright,” Louis said, tilting his face up toward Harry’s again, “seems like this is the best possible way this could have gone, really. Like you said -- a little bit of home on Christmas, after all.”

Harry’s chest  ached at the words, a sweet surge of emotion running through him.  His eyes searched Louis’s face.

“Do you -- Do you live in Stevens Point?” he blurted out.  Another awkward blurt, but this time he couldn’t have cared less.  He felt like something almost impossibly wonderful was taking root in his chest.  

Louis beamed up at him.  “I do.”

Harry’s pulse galloped, his cheeks hot. “Do you -- Could -- Could I see you again? After the holidays, maybe? When we get --”

Louis nodded, silent and happy.  Then he closed the gap between their faces before Harry could keep rambling, pressing his soft pink lips against Harry’s and letting out a small little sigh.  

Harry’s heart sang, sparks tripping out to his fingertips as his hands came up to cup Louis’s jaw and deepened the kiss.  

It seemed like such a very long time ago, that Harry sock had fallen off inside his boot in the middle of a blizzard.  Lifetimes, really.  

**Author's Note:**

> Brave Irene is picture book by William Steig. It's super great! So is the movie Meet Me in St. Louis, in my opinion. 
> 
> Rawwwr4Stylinson, I hope this turned out okay! Happy Holidays!!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Let Your Heart Be Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5503394) by [akikotree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akikotree/pseuds/akikotree), [gloria_andrews](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloria_andrews/pseuds/gloria_andrews)




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